Joie
by Faline1
Summary: Beck defects. His army doesn't. Five years later, Heather finds him and knocks him out. She's hard core like that.
1. 01

_Some days you just want to shout  
For joy!  
Because a new day has come, throwing happiness in its wake._

Some days, Heather woke up from a cold sweat, still hearing Beck's voice in her mind. Not loud or screaming, but calm and patient. Telling her that everything would be okay.

Eventually.

She could see the look in his eyes of defeat and the lost hope of a hundred things that would never be now.

Some nights, Heather is haunted by that look.

And she can't sleep, instead tossing in her bed until the sun rises and she goes over to the Green house to rouse Emily out of sleep with a fragrant cup of coffee.

On those mornings, she likes to wait until Jake is up first, so she can spend quiet minutes talking with the man she had contemplated throwing herself at. Scratch that. HAD thrown herself at.

The days between then and now though were long and worn thin with fighting and death.

Neither of them were of the mindset that it was a good idea to bring up, mostly because there were other things to deal with.

Like Emily's impending childbirth. And the war.

Four years the planes had flown overhead and the world had shaken violently with bombings. Four years Heather had scraped together life from her small garden and canned combined vegetables with the other families that had stuck around. Endless mornings spent repairing vehicles damaged by the AS and fixing the houses that were stripped in the previous weeks.

Four years and Heather had gone to sleep every night with haunted brown eyes floating in her vision.

She couldn't imagine what prompted her to hang on to Beck for so long, other than the fact that he had been unobtainable and would forever remain in her memory as unobtainable. They had never so much as touched in a fashion unbecoming a liaison and Major. That left more than enough room for her fantasies.

Sometimes she wished she had at least as the guts to kiss him before they'd dragged him away to what surely must have been his death. He had smiled at her, disheartened, and she had the feeling he wouldn't have complained too much. Wouldn't have been able to at any rate.

Heather sighed deeply and tossed the hair out of her eyes. Her gaze swept the road in front of her and she tried her hardest not to feel even more downtrodden than before, if possible. Her hand rose, blocking the bright sunshine and she moved into the shade of a surviving maple tree before lowering her arm.

The AS had rolled through here, months ago before the war had officially ended, tearing up anything they could reach without fear of being shot. They had avoided Jericho proper, learning that they could raze the buildings to the ground but they'd be hard pressed to actually kill anyone with how resourceful the people were.

So, they'd stopped bombing main street a few years back. Didn't mean they stopped razing outlying farms and destroying the roads as much as possible. From the damage she could see, Heather estimated this road was toast, its concrete cracked in multiple place and its foundation slipping.

Pulling out her notebook, she made a mention of it and continued her walk. It was pleasant; July and a cool morning at that. She had volunteered to walk the outer edge of Jericho for two reasons. One, because she loved to be outdoors, and two, because she wanted to see what had happened to the old military installment that had been outside of town. She hadn't been cleared to go that far out of the city limits in years. A lifetime.

With Beck's defection, his men had informed the higher up and Beck had been taken to Cheyenne. It was a bad day for the city/country. They lost a Major as well as the bomb that proved they'd attacked their own country.

Within 48 hours there were two more battalions in Jericho, daring Jake Green to come home. Daring Hawkins to try and save his own family. They had, of course, but not before the Texans bombed the shit out of the encampment.

The AS had brought back troops twice since then, both times taking heavy casualties from guided missiles that they were fairly powerless to stop.

They stopped sending troops then. Stopped coming through Jericho. Stopped killing townsfolk unlucky enough to be caught outside in a raid. They'd switched to burning farm houses and destroying the roads.

And now in July, with the weather beautiful, but still chilly and getting cloudier, the war was over. The world was safe again from evil corporations and she was still Heather Lisinsky. Former school teacher. Still in love with a dead man. Sometimes still pining for the living one her best friend had married.

At least she still had some fashion sense and knitting skills. The light sweater was a good addition to her outfit. She smiled at the memory of Bill complimenting her on the sweater only a few months back. She'd knitted it from the yarn he'd dug out of an attic somewhere.

His attachment was sweet. And she was beginning to think it wasn't such a bad idea to want sweet. In the life she had, sweet was safe and a hell of a lot more reliable that reckless or commanding.

The road was gone. There was no way they were saving it. But, there were still farms along the way that she needed to check on.

She started off across the west Miller field, wishing she'd brought some sunglasses at the least. Heather kept her head down, to avoid the sun and to look out for mole holes. She was halfway across the field when she felt the wind pick up. A glance up at the sky told her that she was going to get wet that day.

With a couple acres left to go, Heather made a run for the Miller house, long since abandoned in the general move to town for the farm folks.

She cleared the porch only moments after the first fat drops had started falling and Heather laughed, feeling free for the first time in a long time and glad that she was out of town hall, out of Baileys, and away from a world that was broken.

Her gaze flickered across the view from the porch and she smiled as her laughing ceased. The gentle summer rain would keep it cool, which would keep all the repair work more comfortable.

She was glad, having worked many a too hot hour in the sun on a roof, fixing holes.

She sighed, still feeling very at ease, and turned to open the door. It was unlocked. She pushed the door open, waving away the dust that exploded with the sudden gust of wind echoing through the rooms.

It had been raided, but nothing had been seriously damaged. Her feet found their way to the kitchen and she found an old style pump next to a large cast iron washing tub. She was grateful, having decided that the jug she'd brought with her that morning could use replenishing. She pumped hard, first drawing nothing but gurgles and then thick brown water. Finally it gave way to crystal clear water and her fingers dipped in the liquid, experimenting with the temperature.

It was cool and welcome. She pulled a small plastic cup from her bag and filled it before pulling out her small water testing pack.

'_At least all that schooling is paying off in the after world'_ she thought wryly, thinking back on an earth science class. Not too long after, she was filling her half empty jug when it was obvious the water was still good enough to drink.

She filled the small cup again and wandered the first floor. The house reminded her of her grandparents' home. Large and spacious with memories piled in every corner of every room. She could tell this house had once felt that cozy remembrance but with the broken furniture, animal tracks, and dirt it just felt empty now.

She found the fireplace in the next room, the living room. There were still photos of the Miller family on the mantle. She picked up one, wiping the dust from the glass. It was Amanda Miller and her big brother, Phillip. Amanda had been in her class a few years before the bombs. A very quiet girl, she was abnormally smart and always reading.

She never smiled though. Not like the girl in this picture who was on a tire swing with her big brother, holding on for dear life and giggling wildly.

The Amanda Miller that Heather had taught had lost her mom the summer before and was losing her father to a bottle of alcohol. She put the picture down as she pushed down the image of Amanda Miller's body after a particularly violent bout of bombing last summer.

A creak on the porch made her head whip around and she stood still, waiting. She had a gun, but it was with her pack, on the kitchen table. There was a front door in the way. If she was in danger, she wouldn't be getting help from that. She glanced around and picked up a leg from a broken table.

The windows were filthy and she couldn't really see through them. The rain was falling harder now and Heather wondered if it had just been a branch falling.

And the sound came again, this time with an accompanying shadow through the glass. She sucked in her breath and crossed the room quickly, and quietly.

She had her back against the wall next to the doorway leading in to the hall when the door knob turned and the door creaked open. Her breath held, she listened as footsteps entered the hallway and stopped at the door to the living room.

The kitchen was on the other side of the hall, and her pack would be visible to the person immediately. They would know there was someone else inside.

Her fingers gripped the smooth wood tighter and she exhaled silently as the footsteps entered the kitchen. Heather risked a glance, wanting to know what she was facing. She frowned at the size of the man and the unkempt clothing he wore.

A hoodie had protected him from most of the rain and she winced as his fingers found her pack, opening it up. She heard a sigh when he found the snacks she'd packed for the day's wandering.

He bit viciously into one of her apples and she moved suddenly, not even thinking about it. With a mighty crack, the wood connected solidly with the man's head from behind and he lurched forward in to the table, the fruit falling from a numb hand.

There was a moment when she was afraid he would straighten back up. His legs locked and he made it halfway facing her before she brought the wood up again, striking solidly against the man's face.

He crumpled to her feet.

Heather was breathing heavily and panicked. She edged away from him quickly and grabbed her pack, not even bothering with the few food items that had fallen onto the table.

She was at the door when he groaned and Heather fished out her pistol. She popped out the clip quickly, checking that it was full, then slammed it back in and cocked the weapon.

Her sights trained on the crumpled figure, she tried to find her voice but couldn't. She was still far too shaken from hitting the man.

He drifted in to unconsciousness then, with a final groan and his head hit the floor.

She kept the gun on him a moment longer before sticking it in her waistband. She didn't want to leave; the rain was coming down in sheets now and she really didn't want to get her equipment wet.

But, she really couldn't leave him like that. She couldn't begin to guess how long the rain would last. She sighed and walked to the living room, her pack getting dropped on the couch and opened. She pulled out a length of rope and walked back in to the kitchen.

Heather approached the body, trying to access the best way to bind him. Both of his arms were lying out in front of him, blocking his face and almost on top of one another.

She pulled the gun out and laid it behind her, within her reach but not his.

She finally saw the man's face when she pulled his right and top arm to the left to tie them.

The man had obviously seen better days. His hair was long and unkempt and he had a month's growth of facial hair. There was something familiar about him. Perhaps he'd been from New Bern. She hadn't seen anyone from that town in at least three years, right after it had been bombed for five days straight. If he was from New Bern though, there was hope left for those she still thought of as friends.

She finished tying quickly and sprang back, not wanting to be any closer to him than necessary. She picked the gun back up and backed away. He was out for the count. There was no way he'd be up and moving any time soon.

Thunder cracked outside and Heather groaned at the sudden sound, startled for a moment. The storm was picking up, stranding her here even longer. She went back to the living room, and her bag. She fished around until she found the long range radio Jake had pressed in to her hands that morning, making her promise to call with any issues.

She pressed the button on the side and spoke in to the microphone. "Jericho, this is Heather. Over." She waited a few moments, hearing nothing but static before trying again. Again, nothing but static. It was probably just the weather.

Knowing Jake, he'd know that it was the weather too and would send out a search party when she hadn't checked in at noon, like she'd also promised to do. She checked her watch and frowned. It was only eleven. She had some time.

Resolving that she could at least categorize what the house had, she glanced back at the kitchen, seeing the man was still lying on his side, unconscious. She took her pack, her gun still tucked in her waistband, and headed to the back of the house.

An hour later she'd been through every nook and cranny. She'd found a small supply of dry goods that were probably expired under the stairs in a cupboard that had been overlooked. She had added them to her pile of salvage in the living room with everything else she'd found.

All in all, a good find. Plenty of warmer clothes, which were becoming harder to find as sweaters and coats wore out with use. Even a plentiful supply of blankets and pillows. She couldn't imagine why they'd been left, either by the AS or anyone else who'd wandered in. Blankets were extremely valuable and having an extra couple of layers usually meant the difference between life and death in the cold of Winter.

She was in the middle of folding the last of the blankets when the radio crackled to life, carrying Jake's voice. "Heather, this is Jake, over."

She smiled, relieved, and answered back. "Hey Jake. This is Heather. I'm out at the Miller farm. I got caught in the rain. Over."

"It's easing up in town. You should be clear in the next twenty minutes or so. Do you want me to send out some help? Over."

She glanced at the pile of blankets, then back to the kitchen where the man was still. "Yeah. Send out a truck. We've got quite a bit to haul back."

Heather wasn't sure why she didn't mention the man, but she didn't want Jake to hurry, especially when she had everything under control.

"Roger that. I'll send someone out momentarily. See you soon. Over and out."

Her hand dropped the radio back in her pack and she reached for the blanket again when a low groan broke the silence. Her head whipped to the man and saw him stir. His hands rose to his head and he groaned again.

"Relax. You're fine, but you're not going anywhere."

Heather grabbed her jug of water and her cup, filling it before coming over to the man. She wasn't concerned for her life; she'd had plenty of practice at self defense. She just didn't want to be stuck in a house with a crazy on the loose. The man raised his head at her voice and his eyes widened.

She knelt next to him and handed him the cup, expecting a thanks or for him to take it at least. Instead he stared, brown eyes full of wonder. "Heather?"

Heather frowned. He did sound really familiar too. Like he'd come as a ghost from her past. But the voice was gravely and desolate. She didn't recognize him. "You're from New Bern, aren't you? You look so familiar."

She pushed the cup on him again, letting him drink deeply before refilling it. She added a couple of pain killers she'd found in a cabinet as well, letting him take them from her hand before the cup.

"How'd you get all the way here without going through Jericho first? You'd have to have walked at least thirty miles out of your way."

The man coughed, taking in too much water at one. She pulled the cup back and sat on her heels in front of him. He was looking at her evenly, and there was something in his eyes that pulled on Heather's memory. Something forbidden, yet innocent. The yearning for a better life, a different place in a different world.

She gasped as realization washed over her and the man said her name again.

With unbelieving joy Heather's mouth dropped open and she struggled to form words. This man, this ragged human who'd seen too much of the world had transformed in to Edward Beck. He smiled at her softly before reaching his tied hands toward her and she fell in to him, not caring about the dirty clothes or the filthy floor.

She tried to form the words, buried against his chest, but couldn't find a sound in her throat. He squirmed underneath her and she leaned back, her hands quickly untying his. As soon as they were free of the bonds, Beck's arms were around her and he was sitting up and squeezing her to his body.

"Heather."

She was crying and grinning and unable to hold back the happiness, the unknown relief in her heart, for finding him again. He pushed her away, just to look at her and she looked back, amazed that she hadn't recognized him immediately.

The years were long though, and the memory of this man had never had any room for someone who looked so broken and defeated. Her hand cupped his cheek, and his own framed her face.

The two were quiet, neither wanting to break this dream. Both thinking of the last time they'd seen each other, the future that seemed to maybe have a place for them and the violent departure from that idea.

They came together again, her face pulled to his chest once more and great sobs of relief racked her body. "How? How are you still alive?"

"I'll tell you later."

Heather knew he didn't want to talk now. He just wanted to hold her. The thought filled her with joy and she hugged him as tightly as she could.


	2. 02

_Dreaming of one person for hours straight can, and will, lead to delusions_

This was how Bill found them, a paltry five minutes later. Still clutching one another and still crying in joy. Heather and Beck both heard him open the front door and had turned to look at him. His mouth fell open and he immediately thought the worst. He pulled his gun from its holster, hitched on a plain leather belt rather than his former deputy uniform. "Let go of her. Heather, come here."

The tense note in his voice dissolved their unbreakable bubble of happiness and he held out a hand. "Bill, relax. Put the gun down. It's only Beck." As soon as she said the words she saw the anger in his face and panicked.

He rushed them, pulling Heather away and grabbing Beck by the collar. "You've got a hell of a lot of nerve coming back here Major."

Beck was limp in his grasp, not bothering to fight. Instead, he looked at the floor, refusing to look Bill in the face, which infuriated the smaller man even more. He struck Beck cross the face, hard.

Beck went down without a sound and Heather jumped at Bill, pushing him away before bending over and helping the Major up. Heather felt at Beck's temple, frowning when her fingers came away red with his blood. She turned angry eyes to Bill. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Beck looked up in surprise at this, having heard Heather swear for the first time ever and his eyes followed hers, looking on Bill with wonder. What the hell had this town been through, he wondered.

"How can you still defend him Heather, after all this time? How can you hold him knowing what he did to the rangers, to Jake?"

Heather's voice was soft in his ear when she replied. "It doesn't matter now, don't you understand. It's been long enough to move past this."

Bill shook with anger before turning on his heel and stalking from the room. Heather lifter her hand again and brushed the hair from Beck's face, surprised her own self at the lack of fire that she should have found in them. There was emptiness now that worried her.

"I'll be back." He nodded and she rose, following Bill outside. He'd parked right off the porch, not bothering with the driveway.

When he saw her, he raised a hand. "I don't care what you feel for him but you can't bring him back with us. You can't Heather. Jake'll string him up. He allowed all that stuff to happen to us Heather. He allowed Goetz to run free; to kill Bonnie."

It was as though a flood gate had opened inside of him, spilling free all the emotion from those first few days of the war. And he was right, Heather had to admit. In the four years since Beck had last been seen, the citizens talked of him sparingly, using unfriendly terms and usually with a sentence that started with, "If Beck was still here . . . " and ending with violence.

So, if the town was still so upset at him, why wasn't she? Bill would have surely liked an answer to that, as would Heather. The fact was she knew Beck was a good man forced to do things that he wouldn't have, had he known the full truth. If someone bothered to explain to him before she herself had her showdown with him.

Bill leveled an irritated look at her. "He can't come back. I won't take him. You should tell him to turn his ass around and go back wherever he came from." There was such a venom in his voice that Heather wondered if she even knew Bill at all. If the flirting and sweet words were any real indication of the man inside.

"Then leave. I'll find my own way home."

"Alone?"

She sighed then, a heavy and disheartened sound. "Yes. Alone."

He nodded at her and turned to leave. "Bill?"

He paused, already opening the door to the truck.

"Please don't tell anyone else. He at least deserves the chance to get home. This war was hard on everyone, no matter what side they fought on." Her words seemed enough for him and he nodded, getting in the truck and leaving.

Heather's shoulders dropped and she let her head fall forward. The sky had stopped crying, leaving in its wake a thin mud and a damp feel to the air. There were worse conditions to walk the country in, she supposed.

"I'm sorry."

His voice sounded from the porch and Heather glanced back at Beck. He was leaning in the doorway, his outer coat removed and his hood around his neck. He looked terrible, she realized. Beaten.

She joined him, grabbing his hand and anchoring him with her. "It's okay. It's not your fault. I can't offer you much, but I can get you something to start with. Santa Fe is a long way, especially by foot."

Moving past him, Heather paused when he grabbed her arm lightly. She looked back at him, still spooked by the lack of drive she saw in his face. Something horrifying had happened to Beck, wherever he'd been. He no longer had that air of leadership about him.

"I can't go to Santa Fe. There's nothing there for me."

She drew a sharp breath. "Your family?"

He only shook his head, indicating that they were gone. That he had no one. "Oh Beck. I'm so sorry."

He shrugged, looking away from her, out in to the distance. Leaning back on the door jam, he was despondent and Heather's heart ached deeply.

"Let's go inside then. Sit down. I've got some food if you're hungry."

The desperate look he gave her told her he hadn't eaten in a few days. She settled him on the couch and dug out something for him to eat. Nothing serious. A few apples, including the one she'd knocked out his hand, washed of course. There was some bread and cheese, a welcome luxury this past year when they'd finally managed to get their hands on milk cows.

His eyes lit up at the fare though, when she brought it in. Treating it like a feast, Beck sampled slowly, taking the time to chew thoroughly and make the experience last. She didn't know what to do with him. He obviously had no one. And had come back to Jericho for something, or someone. Probably her.

She didn't know what she could do with him.

"I'll be right back." He glanced at her and nodded solemnly before starting on another apple. Heather grabbed the radio from her bag and went out on the front porch. "Jericho, this is Heather over."

The response was immediate. "Heather, this is Emily. Go ahead, over."

Heather thanked her luck for getting her friend on the line. She was much better at lying to Emily than she was Jake. "Bill has come and gone. Looks like the weather will hold the rest of the afternoon. I'm going to stay out here and finish up with the farms. I should be back before night fall. I'll make contact again if I need any more help. Over"

Emily was silent for a moment and Heather crossed her fingers. "Got that Heather. Are you okay? Over?"

She gulped before taking a deep breath. "Yeah. I'm all right. I really want to get this done today. Tell Jake not to worry. Hell, tell everyone not to worry. Remind them that I'm not a wilting flower. Over and out."

A chuckle, softly, escaped her lips over the last comment, remembering a town hall meeting a few months back, when everyone had been throwing in skills for the reconstruction. Gray Anderson had forbidden her to leave. He'd forbidden all the women to leave the city limits, on the basis that they were more susceptible to attack on the post-war roads.

Both Emily and herself had openly protested, quoting that they weren't wilting flowers. That they had the skills and the know how to make it out there. It had taken three months to convince the man in charge, along with both Green boys and all the rangers, that Heather at least was healthy and capable enough to start working outside the town limits.

And this is what happens, she thinks. Hanging out with what might as well be a fugitive. But, a plan is already forming in her mind when she goes back inside. Beck hasn't moved far, simply pulling off his boots and propping his feet up. His eyes have closed however, and Heather can tell he's sleeping.

She watches him for a moment and allows herself to remember for just a moment, the hope that she'd held on to when she'd first come back to Jericho. That first look he'd give her, when she'd hugged Jake so tight. It had sent shivers down her spine, and then seeing that man from New Bern had frightened her beyond belief.

Not even an hour later he was sitting across from her, asking her to bare her soul and risk her life for him. It had been that simple for her. That's what she'd ultimately given him. It hadn't mattered that he was married or fighting on the wrong side. He had seen past the veneer she'd erected to protect herself with one look.

ON the couch in an abandoned farmhouse, Beck grunted and tossed his body, falling on the floor with a thump.

Heather rushed to his side, kneeling next to him. She really should clean out that wound, she though absently as she brushed the hair away from his face. Maybe clean him up all over. "Are you okay?"

Beck nodded and propped himself up on his elbows. He immediately groaned, a hand coming to his forehead. He gave her a sly look then. "You hit me."

Not expecting that comment, Heather gaped at him for a second before swallowing her guilt. "Twice even. Knocked you clean out."

He nodded in agreement before sitting up. His knees bent in front of him, he leaned forward on them and gave Heather an even look. "I was going to head to Fort Polk if I didn't find you. If you were-" his voice trailed off. "I should still have friends down there and I don't believe Cheyenne. It's not possible the US just gave up on me. They couldn't have discharged me without a trial."

He was rambling now, going on about Cheyenne telling him this and that, lying to him it sounded like to Heather. When he stopped his rant, he was breathing hard and obviously agitated.

She wanted to ask him, badly, what had happened to him, but she couldn't bring herself to do it now. He was far too frail. "If you want to head down to Polk, I'll help however I can. But for now, we should get you cleaned up at the very least."

He looked surprised. "Where? Doesn't exactly look like they're rolling in toiletries or running water out here."

Heather gave his arm a squeeze before standing and pulling him up with her. "Back to my house."

"But you promised Bill-"

"Fuck Bill. Not literally you know, but forget about him. I'll sneak you in if I have to. The patrols are a lot less frequent these days. We shouldn't have any problem getting down there."

Beck didn't like it, but it seemed this new Heather Lisinsky, the one that swore and would go toe to toe with anyone she damned well pleased, was determined to help him. He knew that he could potentially be killed in Jericho. There was only so much Heather could do to help him.

As she took his hand and lead him from the house he wasn't worried. He was bone tired and starving still, but he knew Heather would do what she could. And he didn't want to give up this small joy of just walking with her, holding her hand. After his years in Loomer Ridge he was just happy that he was free.


	3. 03

_Suppose I said  
Colors change for no good reason_

At the end of the Miller's driveway, Beck pulled on Heather's hand. "Should we really try to be sneaking in to town in the middle of the day?"

She thought about it a moment and then shook her head. "Probably not. I don't want to keep you outside too long though. You look ready to fall over in a light wind."

And he knew he did. He'd walked almost five hundred miles in the last few months, scavenging food and begging charity from occupied houses and ghost towns along the way back to Jericho.

He had no desire, however, to risk being taken in to custody again. "I'll be fine."

She gave him an accessing look. Her eyes saw through the dirt and grime, he knew, to the man beneath and it made him nervous in a way he couldn't explain.

"Well, I was out here surveying. I suppose we could do that while we're waiting for the sun to set."

A grateful smile was his offering to her, his thanks for not questioning his reluctance. She glanced back at the Miller place and then looked up the road, away from Jericho. There was another farm house not too far away. "Let's go then." She smiled reassuringly and squeezed his hand before heading to the next homestead.

Over the course of the afternoon they visited seven homes. Heather and Beck were queit as they went room to room, cataloguing and moving things to each living room for a later pickup. She wrote down each item, meticulously documenting where they were at, what was there, and what quality it was in.

In the last house of the day, having circled to the west end of the city, they found a cache of men's toiletries. Heather found them in a drawer under some old t-shirts. She immediately threw these things in to her backpack along with a couple of changes of clothes without a word to Beck.

He'd need them, as soon as they got back in to town.

Beck was waiting for her downstairs in what had been an office. He was flipping idly through a book, and he chuckled as she walked in. "What's up?"

He glanced back at her, clearly amused, and held up the book. '_Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus'_

"Interesting choice. Any reason for that one?" She joined him in front of a large bookshelf, eyeing the choices herself. They seemed mostly comprised on trashy romance novels and parenting manuels. The combination sent her into giggles.

"It seems like whoever lived here didn't know how to do the whole romance thing very well. There's manuals for everything someone learns from life; it's like they didn't experience all those things that teach us about life, instead chosing to read from books to find the answers."

"Are you saying book worms are bad?" There was a challenging note to her voice and she actually raised an eyebrow at him.

He chuckled again and put the book back. "Of course not. Moderation, however, is always a good. And given the choice between learning about sex from a wild exaggeration instead of sharing the act with someone special seems like a strange comparison."

She glanced up at him from the book she'd been examining and the look in his eyes stilled her mind. It was . . . primal. Heather could imagine he was thinking of sex. Hell, she was thinking of sex.

Beck broke the look and shook his head. "And I can't imagine reading a book to find out what it's like to hold your child for the first time or brush them off after they've fallen. That seems like a cheap substitute for the real thing."

He sighed and buried his hands in his pockets. The thought of his family didn't depress him so much with their absence but for the things that could have been. He still remembered his daughter describing in detail her wedding. When she'd been seven. It had been silly things, like pink frothy icing on the cake and pink frothy dresses on the bridesmaids.

If someone told him there was a book somewhere out there that explained what it felt like to laugh in joyful humor with one's daughter about her walking down the aisle to Britney Spears, he wouldn't believe it.

There were things in life you couldn't learn from text. Like explaining to someone you've been thinking of almost non-stop for five years that you're afraid you're in love with who they were. That you're not sure about this new person you've found hiding in their place.

Beck turned away, sad that his thoughts were taking him here, to what would probably be sure failure.

He hadn't come back to Jericho to be lost in his head and confused. He'd done that. For five years. He was ready for a change.

Heather grasped his arm and he looked down at her hand. He hadn't really noticed before that she had some scarring that wasn't there before.

"Are you okay?"

He smiled as reassuringly as possible. "Just tired. It's been a long day."

"I bet." No malice in her voice, she pulled her hand back and walked to the window, looking at the sky. "Well, it'll be sundown in about an hour. It'll take at least two to get back to my place on foot. Do you want to start back?"

He nodded and she pulled her backpack off her shoulder. "I'm going to check in real quick. I'll be right back."

Heather didn't wait for a response, instead walking out to the porch. "Jericho, this is Heather. Over."

She waited for almost a minute before getting an answer. "Hey Heather. Good to hear your voice. What's your ETA? Over." She swore softly under her breath. She didn't want to talk to Jake right now. She was still afraid she'd give something away in her voice.

"I'm headed back now. I got a little side tracked. I'll stop by the Office when I get in with what I've got down today. If you're not there I'll just leave it on your desk. Over."

"Roger that Heather. I'm taking Em out to dinner tonight, so we'll be at Bailey's if you want to stop by and grab something to eat. Over."

She bit her lip. She really liked having dinner with the pair; the conversations were always interesting and she really liked having that companionship to wind down her evenings. Heather thought of Beck's tortured looks however. "Can't Jake. Sorry. I'm going to be exhausted. I need to get some sleep. Over."

His response was delayed, like hers and she wondered what he was doing. If he was thinking about all the mischief he was always accusing her of getting up to. "Okay. You should just come and talk to me tomorrow then. Over."

"Gotcha. Heather, over and out."

She turned the radio over in her hands, wondering if she'd be able to hide Beck from her friends. They'd have to be careful, for sure. Besides, she rationed, it wasn't like he was staying forever. Just long enough to be okay to get to Louisiana.

Beck joined her, his footsteps heavy and dragging, in the front yard. The sun was at the tree line now, making a lazy path downward and they both watched a second before he slipped his hand in to hers again.

She looked down at her hands and marveled for the first time how well they fit together. Both were worn with years of labor. Both held scars that spoke of darker, more dangerous times.

He squeezed lightly and she knew that they both still had their old strengths; that they still had that same determination that had caused angry confrontations and thankful silence. She hoped that she might see moments like that again before he left her.

As one, they started walking back to Jericho.

True to her guess, it had taken a little under an hour before the sun finally dipped below the horizon. They shared the brilliant sunset in silence, still walking. They shared the quiet night in silence as well, both with thoughts wandering in a million directions but never wanting to break this camaraderie that they'd established.

The fireflies lit their path back to the edge of town. Heather had been right; she was pleased immensely about that. The patrol that would have been a permanent fixture on the main road leading to her place only a few months before was absent. She knew the night time guards wouldn't make it here during their route for at least another couple of hours.

It was laughable how easily the pair slipped through the shadows of neighbor's houses. They avoided the ones that had dim lights glowing from within and brazenly crossed back yards of those that were dark and empty inside.

At Heather's back door, Beck leaned warily against the house for a moment, his eyes lifted skyward to the stars. Heather opened the door, not locked because there was no point anymore. She reached for the lights in the entry way but something told her to wait. To look over at Beck.

She smiled at the look of wonder and content on his face. He still looked rough around the edges but he didn't frown automatically and it seemed as though his thoughts were running to external stimuli rather than internal struggles.

"I used to know the names of all the constellations. All Eighty seven. Now I can only name a few."

She chuckled at that, and closed the door, turning and leaning on it. She tipped her head back and allowed the simple pleasure of star gazing wash over her.

"Eighty eight."

He looked at her, an amused smirk in place. Both felt the presence of one another acutely and the look brought his face close. Close enough to give her goose bumps and to cause his stomach to do funny little flips.

"Excuse me?"

Grinning, Heather turned her head too. That sounded more like the Beck she remembered. "There are eighty eight constellations."

The moments drew out between them and Beck felt like he was flying. Like he was finally free of turmoil and strife. He felt like he could stay here, just like this with Heather, for as long as he lived.

The wind picked up slightly and they both glanced at the sky, seeing clouds rolling in. Heather sighed. Another wasted moment for romance. Such was the life she'd lived for the better part of her thirty one years. She pushed off the door and turned, opening it again.

"I'm going to lead you upstairs before I hit the lights. People can see in to my first floor and they'll be able to see you with the lights on. The trees around the house keep the second floor from view, so we should be okay up there."

She held out a hand and he took it without hesitation. It felt a little forbidden, being led in to a darkened house by Heather. Like he was sneaking in to his parent's house after curfew.

She disappeared in to the darkness and whispered that they had to go up a couple of steps in to the kitchen. Heather led him slowly, quietly describing where the obstacles were and sometimes pushing him ahead of her, blocking sharp table corners. Moments like that, he would squeeze past her and hold his breath, willing his beating heart to quiet lest she hear it and realize what she was doing to him.

At the bottom of the stairs, the streetlight was filtering in and he could see the outline of where he was going finally. A wooden banister was there, thankfully, to guide his hand and he reached for it, not realizing that Heather was about to tell him there were stairs.

His arm pushed in to her and suddenly she was off balance, falling forward. He tried to catch her. Beck managed to get a hand around her arm and twist her so she was facing him when her butt hit the third stair with a thump. Her back was spared the uncomfortable fourth step by her backpack, which was squished beneath her and poking her at funny angles.

Her own hands had grabbed for his coat for support, but she'd only managed to pull her down on top of her. With a hand on either side of her head, Beck was now straddling Heather in the dark stairwell.

Heather had to laugh at the situation, knowing full well that they must look ridiculous. After a moment, Beck joined too and both found the other's laughter to be a fantastic sound. A very enjoyable and in Beck's case a sorely missed sound.

And a moment later, once their chuckles subsided, the both realized how very close they were to one another. How Heather's legs had fallen apart and now straddled Beck, whose body was flush with her. They noticed that Heather's hands had slipped inside Beck's coat, resting on the worn waistband of his pants.

They both sure as hell noticed the mere inches between their faces. Their ears buzzed, as though time had frozen for this small second and the numb feeling spread to their limbs and their fingers and toes. Both too intrigued by this new development, they watched each other in the dim light, neither really able to see, but knowing instinctively that they other looked.

With a small, and very quick prayer, Heather's fingers slipped in to Beck's belt loops and tugged. He pressed against her fully, and with a groan on Beck's part their lips met. A breathy moan slipped from Heather as the first touch was tentative and testing before she decided that this wasn't good enough at all.

Her right hand slipped from Beck's waist band to his sweatshirt and then underneath it to the soft and warm skin of his back.

Beck jumped as though he'd been burned, literally cleaning her and ending upright at the bottom of the stairs. His breathing came fast and ragged. "I'm sorry Heather."

She propped herself up on her elbows, trying to catch a glimpse at his face in the dark. His voice hadn't sounded very sorry. It had sounded scared. And it confused the hell out of her. After calming her own breathing, she climbed up.

"What are you sorry for?"

His hands found his pockets again and he took a step back. "I-I'm sure I smell pretty bad. I've been traveling for a while. And I didn't mean to take advantage of your kindness. I'm sorry. I've just been thinking about doing that for a long time."

She could have cried in frustration at his tentative words. He had meant serious business right then. She couldn't have cared how bad he smelled; the only thing that mattered was that it was him. Hadn't she dropped enough hints over the course of the day? Hadn't she held his hand for almost two hours the whole way back to Jericho?

Rationalizing, Heather imagined there was something else. Something he didn't want her to see or hear that had stopped him. And if that was the case, she'd be patient. She'd wait. "Well, then let's get you cleaned up." Heather held her hand out again and smiled.

Even though he couldn't see her face fully, he heard the smile in her voice and saw her hand, which he took. She helped him up, just like it seemed she'd been doing for most of the day. Just like her memory had when he'd been away and just like her determination had when he was faced with the lies of his job.


	4. 04

_Can't remember all the times I tried to tell myself to hold on  
to these moments as they last_

Heather finally hit the lights at the top of the stairs, blinding them both momentarily. She gestured to her left, saying something about guest rooms and an office and gestured to the right, where the hall ended rather abruptly with a door.

She pushed it opened and flicked on another light. Beck followed her; almost nervous when he realized it was her bedroom. He took one look at the bed and started laughing though. Heather shot him a dirty look and fished a towel out of her closet.

"Don't make fun. It's comfy and it helps block the sun." Beck walked over and raised a hand to move the gauzy material hung from the four posts of Heather's bed. There was material blocking most of the view of the bed, leaving it in guessing shadows. Right before his fingers touched the curtains, he stopped. His hands were pretty dirty. He didn't want to get soil the fine fabric.

Heather watched him. She never imagined she'd be introducing Beck to her bedroom under these sorts of circumstances. She had thought he was dead after all.

She dropped her pack by the foot of the bed and pulled out the toiletries that she'd picked up at the last house. One by one, she laid them out on the bed, where the curtains were parted and she had access to her comforter.

Toothbrush, toothpaste, comb, razor, soap. She actually smelled it, delighting in the scent of Irish Springs. It had been years since she'd had anything but home made soaps to use.

Beck laughed again at her before his eyes went wide as she pushed the items in to his hands along with a towel. A change of clothes was piled on top and Heather couldn't help but chuckle at the amusing sight he presented.

She gestured behind him. "The bathroom is through there. I can cut you hair when you're done if you'd like. I think I still have shears around her somewhere."

Mutely Beck nodded and entered the bathroom. She watched as he closed the door, a thrill running through her as he held her gaze until the latch clicked shut.

She heard the water turn on moments later and a loud groan of pleasure drifted through the door. Heather chuckled and turned back to her bag. She unpacked the other clothes, glad that she'd grabbed a few extra pairs for Beck, and laid them out on the bed. Her notes and equipment were next, joining the clothes.

She placed the last of the snacks on top of her dresser and finally got to the bottom of the bag, where the radio was hiding. That was placed next to her bed in its charger. The food and the equipment went back in the bag and she placed it by the door, ready to be taken downstairs later.

She had her hair down and was brushing it when she heard the knocking at the front door. Heather frowned, panic building in her stomach. Who the hell would be here? She stuck her head out a fraction at the top of the stairs and heard Bill's voice, calling her name.

She knew he would walk in at any moment. There was no point in waiting for an invite most days, and Bill had always been a welcome guest in her home. She swore softly as the door knob turned and she ducked back in to her bed room.

He was going to hear the water running.

Quickly, she grabbed three towels and opened the bathroom door, quietly, as she heard the front door open and Bill shouted her name. The shower curtain saved Beck's modesty, which she was kind of disappointed about.

"Beck." Her voice hissed, barely louder than the water.

His head appeared around the edge of the curtain and she chuckled. His hair was a mess of soap bubbles and the look of confusion on his face was priceless. "What-"

She cut off his words with a finger to her mouth and a shake of her head. She threw one of the towels at his head and he caught it with hands also covered in soap. "Put that on. Don't turn off the water."

Still extremely confused, Beck watched her pull her top off quickly, revealing a worn sports bra and an array of small scars that started at her left hand and traveled all the way up her arm to her shoulder and then down her left side. He was so distracted by her sudden nudity that he almost yelped when she pulled back the curtain violently.

His hands, holding the terry, flew to his crotch to protect his private parts and his back slammed in to the wall.

Heather stuck her head under the spray without a moment's hesitation, allowing the water to soak her hair completely. She pulled her head back out and slammed the curtain shut.

Beck felt kind of mortified then, as though he'd just seen the oddest thing he could imagine and it wasn't computing in his mind. "When I tell you to, turn off the water. But don't make a sound. Bill is downstairs."

There were some soft sounds of clothing falling to the floor and then Heather whispered to shut off the water. She pulled back the curtain again and grinned while Beck's jaw dropped. She was naked except for a towel wrapped around her body and one in her hands that was lightly drying her hair.

A small pile of her clothes were lying on the floor, right in front of the tub. Beck swallowed hard and pressed the towel tighter to his groin, trying to hide the effect she was having on him.

"Just be as quiet as possible. I'll let you get back to your shower soon."

The shower curtain was closed once more then Heather made her way to the door. She glanced back at the tub and laughed to herself, thinking of the shock on Beck's face.

Her bedroom was slightly chillier than the bathroom and Heather immediately regretted her choice in subterfuge. Bill hollered from the first floor again and she walked to the top of the stairs. He glanced up at her and Heather knew he couldn't resist the appreciative smile he sent her way.

"I was in the middle of a shower Bill. What's up?"

He made no effort to climb the stairs. Heather knew he wouldn't. He may be welcome to her home but she'd never invited him upstairs and after today, never would. She took the stairs carefully, aware that she was just wearing a towel. Heather walked past Bill, turning on a lamp in the living room. He followed and both stood. She could feel his eyes on her and wasn't the least bit worried.

"I wanted to talk to you about earlier. I hope you can understand why I'm still upset at that man. Why we're all still upset with him-"

"It's been five years Bill. Surely you saw how broken he's become. I guarantee you he's not the same man you knew last and I'm afraid for what he'll find on that road." Her voice was clear, without inflection. She knew she spoke the truth. And she knew Bill wouldn't be easily swayed by just her words. Not yet at least.

"Still Heather, it's hard. If it wasn't for Beck, we wouldn't have been labeled a 'center of resistance'. Jake wouldn't have been tortured! Goetz wouldn't have had the power that he'd held over our heads."

Heather laughed at him then. She'd spent many long hours thinking of how Jericho could have saved itself and every time she'd realized that Beck hadn't been the hammer on the anvil that had forged their fates. They had themselves. With every decision the town had made, even before Beck and the army had arrived, they had sealed their own fate.

"If you're looking for blame, you can't lay it solely on Beck's door step. He wasn't here when we fought off Ravenwood and he certainly didn't bring Hawkins with a nuclear device. There is no one person who can lay claim to the devastation this town has been through."

Bill turned away, his eyes searching through her windows for perhaps a truth she had now planted deep within his mind. A sigh escaped his lips and he looked back at her, thinking her lovely with indignation. "I guess it doesn't matter now. Beck is long gone again." He turned back to her and took a step forward. "Can you at least forgive me for the way I treated you earlier? I hope I didn't hurt you."

Heather sensed he wanted to reach for her, but she blew him off with a smile and a shake of her head. "It's fine Bill. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to finish my shower and get to sleep. There's work to be done and early."

He processed her forgiveness and sighed again before nodding slightly. He made his way to the door; Heather followed as far as the bottom of the steps. Bill's mouth opened and Heather felt as though he wanted to say something more but he didn't and left instead.

Locking the door behind him, Heather leaned her back against the cool wood and breathed deeply in relief. With a giggle, she remembered Beck upstairs, dripping wet and probably getting cold. She climbed the stairs and shut her bedroom door behind her, sure that there wouldn't be any more surprise visitors.

She wrapped lightly on the bathroom door.

"Is he gone?" Beck's voice was muffled.

"Yeah. Go ahead and finish up."

The man didn't answer, instead turning on the water once more. Heather let the towel drop and grabbed her threadbare bath robe. It had once been more luxurious than she was used to, a Christmas gift from Emily and Roger long ago. She sat heavily on her bed, thinking of supplies she wanted to pick up at the depot in town tomorrow. She'd need a little more food than normal. If she was careful, she could get enough for one person for a week and a little more. It was rare these days that she ate at home anyhow, so that should be enough to feed Beck until he was okay to leave.

She was more absorbed in her thoughts than she realized. When Beck opened the bathroom door, she started a little; clearly her head was in a different space. Her eyes surveyed his cleaning and she grinned at the image he was presenting now.

He'd gone barefoot in the jeans she'd found. They were a little too loose around the waist and a little too long. It made him look a like a kid wearing his big brother's clothes to fit in with the cool kids at school. The t-shirt he wore stretched across his chest, that Heather could now see was not as muscled as she remembered. He, in fact, looked smaller all around like he'd lost muscle and just toned.

Heather could see that he had scars running up his arms as well, disappearing beneath his sleeve. His were long and white however, three inches of pale skin against his still tanned arms. They weren't like her's. She had small little cuts. His looked like someone had carved him with a knife.

It was the sight of his face that really made her grin though. He had managed to shave without nicks and looked ten years younger. His lips twitched in amusement as she approached him and ran her fingers along his jaw. His hair still hung to the collar of his shirt though. Clean and shining in the light she fancied him a sort of turn of the century don Juan.

Beck felt like he was enjoying her touch too much. He was still self conscious about the scarring and he took a step to the side. "Did you want to shower too?"

She chuckled lightly, letting her hand fall. She'd get him used to having her around again. Perhaps that's what they'd do tonight. Reacquaint themselves with one another. She entered the bathroom, breathing in the smell of the soap again and certainly looking forward to using some.

Heather glanced back at him before closing the door. For once, he wasn't looking back. Instead, his eyes were glued to a picture frame on her dresser. She knew exactly which one it was; the picture of her and her friends at Bailey's before the bombs was the only one she kept displayed in here.

She wondered if he was thinking of their reactions, like she was. Perhaps, she almost wished, he was looking at another incarnation of her and realizing that she was still Heather. She would always be Heather.

She closed the door.


	5. 05

_Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seamed with scars;_

The door clicked with a finality that bothered Beck to his very core.

He had imagined for years what he would say when he was finally released from the hell he'd been in. He had dreamed of a glorious coming, a joining of two lost souls that had been blown apart by the winds of fate. He had been a hopeless romantic.

His wife had always accused him of such, every time he'd come home on leave and had swept her in to his arms and kissed her until they'd both forgotten the years he'd been gone.

She'd always laughed at him and brushed the worry from his brow; stroked away every bad image he'd seen with a careful hand and loving words.

He supposed he would always be that incurable romantic. And he'd imagined Heather would become that again for him. That he'd get back to Jericho and be swept into another maelstrom of forget and wonder.

The kiss they'd shared on the stairs suggested that perhaps she would want it too. He cursed himself for his pain. For being weak and ashamed of the way he looked, unable to do what he truly wanted.

His eyes fell to the picture she had on the mantle again. She was there, with Emily and Mary Bailey and Eric Green. There was a man he didn't recognize and a beautiful red head with a full smile holding Eric's arm. This must have been the wife. The one who'd died in childbirth as her husband was leaving her for another woman.

There was more tragedy in Jericho than he wanted to acknowledge and Beck knew a good part of it was Heather's. What was it that he'd read about her in his file? Family died in the bombs? On vacation in LA. He thought that was right.

She'd lived years without them now, just as he'd lived without his own family.

In the bathroom, the water started and he looked at the door.

He felt ill, waiting for tomorrow, waiting to see what would happen to him. He wanted to take his life back in to his own hands. He didn't want to worry about what could be, just what he wanted to be.

So he did. His feet carried him to the door and his hand opened it.

Heather heard the latch on the door click free from the frame and she frowned. Pulling back the curtail she opened her mouth to ask Beck what was up. She never got the chance.

There was something in his eyes, something Heather hadn't seen in a very long time. She hadn't seen it since the day he'd been arrested and taken away. A hope for a chance and a wish for a new timeline.

She wasn't all that modest and didn't try to cover herself when he ripped the shower curtail back, revealing her. She didn't shrink back from him either when he reached out to her. One hand buried in her wet hair and the other circled her waist, pulling her in.

"Beck." She wanted to know what he was thinking. What had caused this newfound confidence?

Beck didn't answer her. At least not with words. His mouth slammed in to hers.

Heather gasped at the feeling of his kiss, thinking momentarily that she'd always imagined this is how he'd really kiss, when he was lost in passion. He was possessive, taking her bottom lip between his teeth and nibbling lightly. He flicked his tongue and she groaned deep in her throat. Heather swayed slightly and leaned farther in to him. She had no more time for introspection as he climbed in to the shower with her, forgetting or not caring about his clothing, and lifted her bodily.

Heather's legs wrapped tight around his waist and her hands sprang in to action, understanding finally dawning on her that he was really here. This man with the wounded eyes and the long hair and the curious scars was Beck, her Beck.

He was back.

Her hands buried in his hair while she kept her mouth on his. She wanted all of him. Needed all of him.

One hand drifted to his shoulder and she remembered that he was still wearing his clothes. The bite of the denim on her bare thighs came swiftly in to her head. "Beck, stop." He looked wounded when he raised his face. She had to laughed at it and she brushed her finger tips across his lips.

"Let me down." Still confused, there was disappointment in his eyes now and it broke his heart that he should think she was done with him yet. He listened to her request and allowed her to loosen her legs and slide down his body.

As soon as her feet hit the bath tub her fingers were tearing at his t-shirt. He chuckled and she gave him a brilliant smile between pulling off the material denying her access to his skin and running her fingers up his chest. Her mouth followed and she blazed a trail of kisses along one collarbone to his neck, then back down to the other side. He had a few of the scars on his shoulders too, but nothing very serious.

She wanted to ask, but she would. Later. Much later.

She was busy now.

Beck groaned when her hands drifted down to his waist and then to the front. He strained against her fingers as they battled with his wet jeans and finally, he was free of his pants.

Had they been dry Heather was sure his jeans would be down to his ankles, but wet they were proving a bit more difficult. She pushed hard and was rewarded with wet material sliding past his hips. She moved her hand, reaching for him, but he stopped her with another bruising kiss.

She was lifted again, legs back around his waist and he was pushing inside her.

Heather cried out in pleasure as he filled her. For a moment, neither moved. His forehead leaned against hers and Heather could tell he was having a hard time not moving. She kissed him, demanding that he pay attention up top, to her.

Pulling back, his eyes were on her own and she marveled at the restraint that they now held. Beck was truly reawakening inside this shell that he'd buried himself inside of. With a devious smile, she started to rotate her hips, unable to get too far sandwiched between Beck and the wall.

It was enough though and as if a flood gate had opened, Beck moved back.

Their coming together was nothing gentle and it was absolutely not a calm declaration of undying love for one another. Heather had read all about moments like those, and this was not it.

This was not it.

It was rough and fast and left her head spinning after only a few moments. The combination of Beck pushing in to her, of his hands at her waist lifting her and the cold wall at her back made her feel adrift. The shower was still on and every few seconds Beck would move back far enough to allow a stream of warm water to flow between them.

It was maddening and Heather felt like she was about to split in two when she finally did come, screaming Beck's name and clenching down tightly around him. Beck was much quieter but the intensity in his eyes bespoke of a deep seated pleasure and lust that she knew they'd be fulfilling probably for the next twelve hours or so.

With the final shudder leaving his body, Beck carefully pulled out and set Heather down. He adjusted his pants, pushing them fully off his legs. Catching the pants with a foot before they hit the tub, he scooped them up and tossed them outside the curtain.

Heather figured he was getting ready to get out and do . . . something. Really, what could she suggest at that time? Nothing was coming to mind.

He didn't move away however. He leaned fully against her, glad that the wall provided him with some additional support. His legs still shook. Heather's face found the crook of his neck and her arms looped loosely around his midsection. He stiffened when they found his largest scars. Heather leaned her head back and looked at him questioningly.

He kissed her and she responded before trying to wiggle out of his arms and turn him around. He tightened his hold on her and moved them, putting her back to the shower. They both sighed as warm rivulets traversed the valleys and peaks of their torsos.

"Later. We'll talk about it later. First, let's get cleaned up." Heather nodded dumbly, unsure of what sort of response she should give. She was still looking at him strangely when he retrieved that bar of soap and worked up a strong lather.

Heather allowed herself to be soaped up from head to toe. She groaned with pleasure when he turned her around and spent a good fifteen minutes rubbing down her back. He was so very good with his fingers. After building up another good later, he attacked her hair. She wished, vainly, that she had some conditioner that would help the mess on her head but conditioner was impossible to come by. Her few home made attempts had ended disastrously.

As the water started to cool, Heather turned to rinse her hair off. After getting the last of the soap from her face and around her eyes she opened them to find herself alone in the bath tub.

"Beck?"

There was no answer and she risked a glance out the curtain. The door was open but Beck couldn't be seen. She checked her body for any missed soap spots and turned the water off. "Beck, where'd you go?"

He appeared in the doorway, grinning and dressed again, this time in the set of loungewear she'd found. He held a fresh towel in her hand and she glanced to where she'd left the one she'd intended to use. It was gone. She was filled wild mild amusement as he approached her and held out the towel like a blanket. She reached to take it from him but he avoided her hand and proceeded to dry her himself, from top to bottom.

She really couldn't be helped for the shudder that ran through her as his hands, padded by terry cloth, passed over still sensitive parts. After spending a little more time than necessary drying her breasts she laughed and said his name in mock warning.

"What? I'm just trying to be thorough."

"Yeah, well, if you want to do anything tonight besides what just happened I suggest you cool it before _I_ jump _your_ bones."

He grinned even wider. "And what else would there be to do tonight?"

The comedy of the situation struck Heather and she chuckled. "Food for one. I'm hungry. If I've got a long night of debauchery ahead of me I'm going to need food." Beck opened his mouth to protest but his stomach beat him to the punch, growling loudly.

"Oh all right." With a great flourish Heather hadn't seen from him before, he settled the towed around her body and secured it in front. "I'll just go back to bed and sulk." He turned and stalked away. She laughed again, amazed at how easy that had come to her all day long. There had been weeks where Heather hadn't even managed a smile during the war.

Then again, Beck had always been able to draw a smile out of her, unless, ya know, he was torturing her friends and town.

The bed creaked loudly. Beck must have just jumped on it. Heather left the tub and hung up Beck's wet clothes on the curtain rod. The many wet towels spread around the room received similar treatment. She'd have to do laundry again shortly. Satisfied with the straightening job she'd accomplished she sighed at the sight. Her curtain rod was bent under the weight.

Exiting the bathroom, she indeed found Beck on the bed and her heart melted a little. He was asleep and looking dead to the world. She approached and just watched, not wanting to wake him when he was getting rest he obviously needed.

Food would wait for morning, she decided.

Getting dressed would too. She hit the light in the hallway then flicked off the one in the bathroom and the bedroom. She was about to lay down when she thought better of all the darkness. The bathroom light remained on, with the door closed. Just enough light got out underneath that it was at least obvious where the toilet was.

Rejoining Beck on the bed, she shuffled him for a minute, getting the sweats he'd put on back off and then disrobing him of his tee-shirt.

He awoke enough to raise his hips, then his legs as she ordered him under the blankets.

His sigh was deep and contented when he was settled and Heather had climbed in beside him, hanging her towel on her closet door. She was momentarily nervous, unsure of what sort of sleeping arrangement they were going to have.

Beck solved the problem for her. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her bodily across the sheets and in to his embrace.


	6. 06

Here is what I know now  
Goes like this:  
In your love, my salvation lies

Beck woke with a start in the first moments of morning, feeling parched and exhausted. He hauled himself out of bed carefully and slipped in to the bathroom. His mouth tasted awful, he realized.

He grabbed the toothbrush and toothpaste Heather has supplied the night before and made quick work of his teeth. After his final spit, he felt refreshed and awake, yet still thirsty. There were no large drinking cups in the bathroom, so he headed down to the first floor, intent on a large glass of cool water. As it filled his throat and washed away his thirst, he sighed in joy.

For so long he'd been at the whim of his jailer. At the mercy of men who hated him as much as they were at a loss with what to do with him.

The simple fact that he was standing in Heather's kitchen, wearing comfortable and clean pants, while drinking a glass of water without asking anyone for permission, was awe-inspiring.

He turned to look out the window over the sink and stood there for a few moments, watching the sun as it peeked up over the tree line. Twenty four hours ago he'd been in another state, starved and hopeless.

This dawn brought the type of joy that he'd only dreamed of lately.

He filled the glass again, draining it easily. Warm hands slid from his sides to his stomach and he felt Heather against his back. He knew she'd seen the scars. Perhaps it was time to tell her. He spun in her embrace and wrapped his own arms around her shoulders to pull her close.

She smelled sleepy, if that was possible. Hair still slightly damn and smelling of soap. He took a deep breath before dropping a kiss on the top of her head. She looked up at him and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of her eyes.

If he wasn't mistaken, love was staring back at him. The thought caused his stomach to clench in anticipation and almost surprise. His lips lowered and he kissed deeply. She pushed back almost immediately. "Please, let me brush my teeth first at least."

He leaned down again and nipped at her bottom lip not the least bit concerned. She still tasted good to him. She pried him off and put her hand over her mouth.

"Does this mean we're awake now?"

She laughed and started back towards the stairs.

"I suppose. There are eggs in the fridge, if you're inspired."

Beck could have sworn there was a hair toss in there somewhere and he grinned. He was starting to like the new Heather that he'd found yesterday. She seemed sassy, and not in her usual flirtatious way. There was some deep confidence inside of her that had grown from the war and for once, he wasn't cursing Cheyenne for something. He was mildly thankful that he wouldn't see her looking as unsure as she's been accused of looking at something in his office that she shouldn't have.

She had grown in to a well-rounded woman he realized. And she seemed very open to accepting him in to her life, and even her heart, if he wasn't reading her the wrong way. It was entirely possible, he guessed. They had a lot of catching up to do.

He shook his head again and turned back to the sink. The sunlight blinded him momentarily and he blinked in the light before looking around for the necessary pans for breakfast.

Heather heard the sounds filter up the stairs and smiled to herself. She was brushing out her hair, having just finished with her teeth. There were still some damp spots, but they would dry. And the horrible bed head would be well hidden in a ponytail. But later. She hadn't had a meal cooked for her in a cook's age.

She tried very hard not to skip down the stairs in anticipation. At the doorway to the kitchen, she paused and leaned against the door frame, again lost in the sight of the scars on Beck's back.

Long and thin, she could tell that they were whip scars. Many wrapped around his shoulders and arms. There were many sets as well, as though he'd had time to heal then be whipped again.

It brought a shiver down her spine to think about someone doing that to another person, let alone Beck.

Her smile was small and tight. Her Beck.

She raised her head high, proud to be the woman that was sharing this glorious morning with him and she approached him from behind again. He was cooking now, utensils in each hand, stirring one pan and moving around scrambled eggs with the other.

Underneath her fingers, his back muscles tensed for a slit second before relaxing and she rested against him fully. She didn't think she'd ever get used to the feel of the man. Her lips kissed him between his shoulder blades and she smiled; she'd hopefully never tire of the taste of him either.

He chuckled at her show of affection. "Somehow I don't think you're going to be much help clasped to my back like that. I'm not sure where your dishes are; would you mind setting the table, I'm almost done."

She kissed his back again and moved away, grabbing a couple of plates and forks. Her table was more of an island, with stools for seating and she arranged their layouts across from one another. She wanted to talk with him, to find out what he'd been through and she knew that if she tried to sit right next to him, he'd only want to move her. She was positive that hadn't changed about him; that he'd want to face his battles head on.

Heather sat down and watched him some more. His muscles seemed to be unaffected by the scarring but there were really so many. He hadn't winced the night before when she'd clawed at his back while they were in the shower. A stab of guilt flooded her when she realized some of the marks were still bright red and most assuredly from her.

He turned and she averted her eyes to the table, clearing a spot between loose papers and her salt and pepper shakers, which she'd kept full with a vengeance. He took the seat across from her and dished out the eggs first, and then a side of berries that he'd been warming on the stove.

Her eyebrow rose at the fruit. He saw it, and shrugged, serving himself. "I love berries."

"Warm? For breakfast? That seems a little strange."

He shrugged again, taking a large bite of his eggs. "I take it you've never eaten berry pancakes?"

She laughed and tried the eggs herself. They were a touch bland, but she didn't reach for any spice. She was used to her food not having the same caliber of flavor as it used to. She was use to a slightly bland world.

The joking expression on Beck's face made her think that her life was about to get a shock. She smiled back at him. She was more than ready for a change in pace.

Silent, they made their way through breakfast and Heather acknowledged, much to Beck's pleasure, that the berries really were a fine touch. She wished she would have thought of it sooner.

As the last forkful of eggs made its way to her mouth, Beck chose that exact moment to start questioning her. "So, how have you fared over the years?"

She struggled with swallowing quickly; taking in a large gulp of the glass of water he'd placed in from of her before answering. "Ya know, not all that bad. Once the AS left us alone, we got along fairly well. All of the surrounding farms are producing again. We're expecting 100% yield this fall. Not only that but we have hopes that by the time winter comes around we'll have all houses fixed up and occupied again."

"I noticed that there's a lot of corn growing. I'm happy. This part of America corn was always a back bone."

She smiled and nodded. "Sure. We've got a lot of other good things going too. There's a dairy farm up and running. We have milk. Not a lot ya know, but some. It was a pain finding cows, but we managed well enough. Once the AS left us alone."

He regarded her over the rim of his water glass. "Things were bad then? For a while at least?" He seemed distressed, badly, over this thought.

"I guess. We had a lot of bombings. You should see Main Street. Half is in ruins; the other half is hanging on by a prayer. The worst was the last time they came through. They knew they wouldn't be back, we think, so they did as much damage as they could." Unconsciously her right hand rubbed her left, going over the small scars there.

His hand captured them both and stilled her movement. She glanced down, entranced by his darker skin over hers. "Is that how you got these?"

She nodded, looking up at him. Praying she didn't look as torn up outside as she felt inside, she attempted a smile and explained. "I was in Bailey's. They were trying to hit town hall and the majority of it did. Some, however, fell wherever. I was standing by the door. It was foolish of me. A bomb landed right outside the door and I had enough sense to try and get away."

His eyes were on her old injuries and she wondered if he could imagine how painful it had been when they'd removed each piece of glass from her side. How much she wished she was dead or that Kenchi could at least knock her out.

Her gaze shifted down to their hands, and she sighed at the scars on his own hand. She supposed he knew exactly how that must have felt. If not even more so.

"How did you get yours?"

She didn't need to say scars and he didn't need her to. Not withdrawing one bit, Beck actually leaned forward.

"Well, I guess I should tell you the whole truth."

Her voice was faint when she said, "And nothing but the truth?"

Her humor was lost in the saddened air but she at least got a smile out of Beck for it.

"They took me first to Fort Liberty. I spent three weeks in a holding cell waiting to find out if I was going to be executed for treason. That was the expected ending. Every day I was grilled by some hot shot Lieutenant until one day Colonel Hoffman came to see me. Do you remember him?"

Heather nodded. She'd probably never forget the man who'd seemed so helpful when in the end it was a means to his own goals that made him an ally.

"Hoffman gave me two choices. I could atone for my disobedience or I could be forced to atone." He sighed, drawing his hand back and folding it with his other in front of him. "When I still refused to cooperate, they shipped me off to Loomer for the duration of the war. I was lucky. I knew it then and I know it now. I don't know who eventually kept me from the firing squad, but I was grateful."

"Then. After the first week in Loomer, I was beginning to think death would have been preferable." He shifted now, clearly uncomfortable for the first time since he'd woken up. "Hoffman had meant torture when he said I would be forced to atone. They whipped me every morning like clockwork. Almost every day they were careful not to break the skin. The soldier doing the whipping said that if he broke skin I'd have to heal before he could resume."

His eyes were cold when they finally looked up at Heather and her heart broke for him then. She took the initiative, reaching across the table and twining her fingers in with his.

"They taunted me plenty. In between badgering me endlessly for answers. The first time I realized that this was something I would be enduring for a long time was the first time they brought up my family. They had pictures. Pictures of my wife and daughter lying in a ditch, holes riddled in their bodies. I hadn't wanted to look, but I couldn't take my eyes off of them. They looked authentic. They didn't look fabricated."

"I didn't want to believe them, and a part of me didn't. It still fought them every time they moved me from location to location and it kept me strong. It put me to sleep and woke me before their fists and boots did. It kept me sane, for a while at least."

"Three months in, Hoffman came back to me and told me that my family had been found in a FEMA camp a month after the bombs. That they'd been killed in a food riot." Beck's hands clenched and Heather tightened her grip, wanting him to know that she was there for him.

"I still didn't want to believe. I hated him for saying it, and I didn't want to think it was possible. I fought harder after that. Another month or two went by and he came back. This time, he had my wife's wedding ring with him. He threw it at me and said, calmly, that I had nothing. That I needed to cooperate.

"Honestly I don't even know what they were expecting from me. Now that I know the whole story, I know that Jake and Hawkins had already made it back to Jericho and that the AS was bombing and all that. I couldn't conceive what I had locked away that the AS would want for me."

"It was clear they just wanted to break me because I cried for the first time that day. I broke clean through and they carried me to a new cell, this one made for long term residents." Tears in his eyes again, Heather had to comfort him. Rounding the table, her arms circled him easily and she buried her face in the crook of his neck. The angle was awkward, but she needed him to know that everything would be all right.

Softly, he continued. "I spent four years in that cell, leaving twice a day. Once, at 5 AM, I was lined up with the other POW's and forced to do PT. Then, at 5 PM we did it all again. For four years that was my life. The hours between though, they were made easy."

"Easy? How could they have possibly been easy?"

"They were easy because I had someone in my thoughts that kept me going. Heather, the thought of you kept my mind sharp. Kept me together. They may have broken my spirit but they couldn't take you away from me."

"Oh Beck." He shifted her suddenly, turning on the stool and holding her close, between his legs. She held on tight, feeling the hurt and pain that had been stored in side of him for ages now. He suddenly seemed much older to her now. The things he must have been through; she was sure that he was the strongest man she would ever know.

He didn't cry as he held her. It felt enough for him to simply hold her. She wanted to give him more though. She wanted him to completely let go of the anguish he held. Slowly, she leaned backwards and, framing his face with her hands, brought her gaze back to him.

"I'm sorry. For everything you've been through. But it's over now. You only have better days to look forward to now."

His frown deepened; she wasn't sure that was possible. "How can you be sure Heather? How can anyone be sure that the dark days of war were any worse than what we're faced with now?"

"Well for one," she said, brushing hair away from his eyes. "You've got me. And I've got you. At least for a while. That's enough, I would think, to make the next few days infinitely happier."

She smiled softly at him, but her mouth rounded in surprise when his arms around her tightened and he rose, lifting her with him. His mouth found hers and he kissed deeply, without restraint. She groaned with need, knowing that she would never have enough of him.

Before she could process fully that they were entwined so tightly, he was laying her down on the table, his hands clearing away pans and dishes. They clattered to the floor, sharp bangs that were forgotten in their passion. "Dear God Heather, I could drown in you."

She laughed as his hands found the buttons on her shirt and started working down them. "Well, if you do, be assured that I am fully trained in CPR."

He laughed then too, and Heather's heavy anguish for him lifted slightly. His hands were on her bare skin now and any traces of anguish or sadness fled from her mind with maddening ease.

He bent to kiss her again. Heather's lips parted in anticipation. Both of them were shocked by the sound of a door being kicked in and the angry voice of Jake Green thundering from the front hallway. Heather looked up and behind her, seeing an enraged Sheriff bearing towards them, gun already drawn.

Jake's face would have been priceless with shock if he hadn't chosen such an inopportune time to bust through her front door. As it was, he realized exactly what was going on the very moment Beck raised his eyes and locked gazes with the younger man.

In the following moments, Beck was pulled off of Heather, who screamed Jake's name in an effort to stop the man while also trying to cover herself up. She would have been irritated at Jake seeing so much of her, if Jake had been paying any attention to her at all.

His sight was firmly on Beck and his anger was overflowing as he pistol whipped Beck across the face, sending him sprawling to the floor. Heather gave Jake a mighty shove, sending him towards the back door and away from Beck.

"What the hell is wrong with you Jake?" She bent next to the unconscious man, thinking that it would be a miracle if Beck made it out of Jericho without at least one serious concussion.

"He was attacking you! And what the hell is he doing here anyway? Why wasn't he executed? They should have executed him."

Reality slammed in to Heather finally and her angry eyes turned to her friend. "Dammit Jake. Would you let that fucking go? He wasn't attacking me and he's here as my guest. I brought him back with me yesterday." She didn't even both making sure Jake understood what she was saying. She rose and dampened a cloth, going back to Beck to wipe at the wound seeping from his forehead.

It was deep; she groaned thinking of finding someone to patch him up.

Behind her, Jake shuffled closer and he holstered his sidearm before kneeling next to Heather. She gave him a quick glance and was slightly relieved to see some form of concern on his face. "You should have told me Heather."

"And would that have stopped you from hurting him? Would you have come in here any differently than you just did?"

"Of course. I heard something crash to the floor when I was about to knock. I was afraid you were in danger."

Heather rolled her eyes. On the floor, Beck groaned and winced. His eyes fluttered open. He looked blankly at Heather and Beck before his memory cleared. With a growl, Beck threw his fist at Jake, awkwardly from being on the floor. He impacted hard enough to send Jake rocking back on his heels and to his ass.

"What the hell is it about my head that makes people think I like to be knocked out?"

Heather helped him in to a sitting position. His eyes never leaving Jake, he gave her hand a squeeze as he adjusted. His back was against the stove, his knees up and his feet only a foot from Jake's. He had a very insistent voice telling him to lash out at Jake again but resisted the urge. The feeling of control made his head more clear in any case.

A few tense moments passed in which no one said anything, each too absorbed in their own thoughts and a staring contest going strong between the two men. Neither wanted to be the one to back down, but Jake knew that if he wanted to keep Heather as a friend, he'd have to work on making amends for the attack.

Slowly he climbed to his feet and offered Beck a hand. The other man glared up at him until Heather physically pushed him in to a standing position, with Jake's help. "I'm sure you can understand my concern for Heather."

"That still doesn't explain the gun to the temple thing though."

Jake sighed. "I'm sure you can understand my disdain for you."

"Trust me. I understand. All too well. At least I didn't use whips. Or images of your dead family. Or the knowledge that the only people in the world that you loved weren't in danger of dying but were already dead and gone. I had no joy in what I did to you Jake. It hurt me too, whether you want to believe that or not."

Taking Beck's words in, Jake glanced out the window and sighed again. He chose to actively ignore what the other man had said, instead addressing Heather. "You know the rules Heather. We need to take him in and get him checked out."

She nodded, resigned. The ruse was up. There would be no point in arguing now. "Fine." Warily, she ran a hand through her hair before catching the look of resignation that was on Beck's face as well.

After changing in to a pair of cargo pants and a shirt for herself and a shirt for Beck, she followed them both in to the sunshine.


	7. 07

You try harder and harder but it floats on

The street was empty as they left the house, and all three were silent. They walked, Jake leading with Beck and Heather behind him. As they reached the end of the block, Heather's hand slipped in to Beck's and she gave him a soft smile and a reassuring squeeze.

He wished he could find the strength to smile back, but right now, the future was looking a little dodgy. The joy of coming back and finding Heather was melting away in the harsh light of the day and the realization that he was at the mercy of the man leading them both.

He wondered if Jake felt as he had, when he'd been a leader. When he'd ruled this town with what had supposed to have been an iron fist of protection.

It was unlikely. Jake Green had been ruled by his heart before, and was most likely still ruled by it, making him a most likely fair and gracious leader to his people. And a devil to those that would try and take what was his. From the glint in Jake's eyes right before his pistol had struck, Beck knew that Jake believed Heather was his.

Perhaps not in a romantic way. But as a friend and a valuable asset to his town. And Beck had a very serious feeling that Jake was not pleased about his being there or the fact that he'd found himself and Heather in such a compromised position.

He scoffed under his breath. Unless Jake was planning on running him out of town or locking him up, he'd have to share Heather because Beck had finally found something in her that assured him that she was attached. She wanted him, and he wanted her. Who was Jake Green to deny him that?

Sheriff. That's who. He'd seen the badge on the other man's belt. Jake was still holding the position that Beck himself had given him. And a sheriff these days had more clout than a mayor, having the entire responsibility of a town's survival resting on their shoulders. Beck had seen plenty of towns, torn apart or held together at the whim of their sheriffs on his back to Jericho.

The last thing Beck wanted to do here was tear this town apart again.

At the med center, where Jake had lead them, he turned to address them both. "We'll get that head looked at, as well as a full blood panel. No one comes in to Jericho now unless they're screened for disease." He grasped the door handle and pushed, adding, almost as an after thought, "We lost a lot of folk a couple of winter's back to the flu. No one wants any new diseases brought in."

Beck supposed that he would have to agree that it was a good idea. He'd been given a clean bill of health by the Red Cross after being released, but there was no way of telling if their methods were completely effective.

Inside the med center, it was quiet. Still early morning, most were probably just rousing from their beds. The receptionist at the desk had a wide smile for Jake and Heather but when her eyes found Beck, she frowned before reaching for a stack of papers.

"Morning Sheriff. A new face?" The woman looked familiar, but Beck couldn't put his finger on exactly who she was.

"Yes Meredith. I'll take him to the exam room." His hand was extended with expectation and the woman placed a large packet of papers she'd dug out of the stack in his waiting palm. They were at least highly organized now, a state he had not found the town in.

Not wanting to remember those first few dark weeks, Beck bowed his head and followed Jake and Heather down the hall. They met no one else and soon Beck was sitting on an exam table with the rather large packet and a clipboard Jake had procured from somewhere in his hands. Heather handed him a pen with a smile and he smiled back when her fingers resisted letting go just a fraction of a second longer than what would have been seemly between acquaintances. Jake caught the shared look and scowled.

"Fill out the paperwork. I'll go find Doc. And maybe a nurse. I don't know how many are on staff this morning." He gave them a pointed look that told them both that disobeying his orders wouldn't be tolerated.

As he swept from the room, Beck put the pen and the clip board down on the table next to him and reached for Heather. Their fingers entwined and he tugged gently, bringing her between his legs. He sighed and closed his eyes, glad that she was there. Her free hand cupped his cheek and his eyes opened, finding a smile that was his alone on her face.

"Everything will be all right. This is all standard procedure these days."

Beck nodded. A deep cleansing breath chased away most of the worry and Heather's soft hand threading through his hair did the rest. He was suddenly very glad he hadn't asked her to cut it.

They shared a long look before Beck let her hand go. She backed away, taking a seat against the wall. He picked the paper work back up and frowned at the seemingly endless questionnaire. It appeared he'd be here quite a while.

Two hours later and Heather was fidgeting. She tapped listlessly on the chair while watching the hall, waiting. Jake had kept them waiting far longer than necessary.

He'd probably called up Eric along with Gray and anyone else he felt needed to be appraised of Beck's return.

They were probably all in Jake's office right now, Beck's former office, discussing what to do with the man.

She prayed they'd be forgiving. Five years was a long time. Especially to hold a grudge against a man who'd realized he'd done wrong and had tried to correct it before he'd been taken away.

The man in question was still working on the paper work and Heather felt a stab of pity for him. His confessional that morning was still giving her heart aches thinking about what he'd been through. The truth behind the scars on his back was terrifying. She couldn't bare the thought of him in any more pain. But, it would be inevitable.

The town of Jericho had survived. On sheer determination alone they had stayed the course and survived. No thanks to Beck.

She heard footsteps in the hallway. Her eyes immediately shot to Beck, who gave her a look mixed with dread and resignation before she watched the door expectantly.

Jake was back. Doc was right on his heels, along with Eric.

The younger Green brother didn't look terribly angry. Neither did Jake. Doc pushed past Jake and headed to the counter along the far wall. He started pulling out equipment for the exam that Heather knew was forthcoming.

Jake and Eric stayed in the door way. For a long moment, the two brothers and Beck gave each other looks. Beck still seemed full of worry while the Greens seemed to be contemplating.

"So, what's the story Beck? Why the hell did you come back?"

Beck, distracted by Jake's question, almost jumped right off the bed in surprise when the blood pressure cuff was fitted around his right arm. Doc apologized in his soft way before attempting again. Beck sat stock still as his vitals were taken then recorded.

"I-" Beck's mouth closed and he glanced down at his hands. He seemed at a loss for words. Heather desperately wanted to tell his story; wanted to save him the agony of relieving the worst moments of his life again.

It wasn't her place though. It wasn't her story.

Beck's mouth opened again and as Doc ran a series of basic sensory tests, then drew blood, the last five years poured out again. He glossed over the most personal stuff. He took his time describing the torture. Heather was glad to see a panic pass over both Green's face as he went through the worst of it.

At the end, which brought him to Heather's house last night, he stopped. Gave her a searching look. She sighed and stood, coming to stand next to the bed. "I brought him back. He wasn't in any shape to keep traveling. Almost dead on his feet by the time we got home."

Jake and Eric were both quiet for a moment before Jake repeated his question again. "Why did you come back here?"

Again Beck looked at her. There was something new in his eyes though. Defeat. Pure defeat. "I have no where else to go. My family is gone. They don't want me back in the US military and all of my contacts within it have turned a cold shoulder to me. I am persona non grata."

His voice trailed off. Eyes to the floor, Beck was laid bare in front of them. Heather's heart broke in about a million places. He hadn't told her that.

She was running on the half belief that he would be leaving her within a week or so.

The half that hadn't believed that screamed in joy at the thought that she wouldn't have to give him up. That half was ecstatic.

With his eyes still on the floor, Beck merely adjusted his arm when Doc said he was going to draw blood. Heather grabbed his other hand and gripped fiercely. He needed to know that he wasn't alone. He looked up at her in surprise and she tried to put on a reassuring face.

Footsteps in the hall again and she glanced at the door. Jake and Eric were gone. Silent, they had disappeared.

Heather would be unable to say that she was upset with that.

"All done!" Doc seemed cheerful enough, despite the sad undertones in the room. Beck glanced at him and nodded and Doc took the time to smile back at him.

"I want to thank you too Major Beck." There was no sarcasm in the statement, and Beck looked bewildered. "You probably don't remember me, but I'm from New Bern. When the riots started you brought me in to the med group you had based there. It kept me safe, even after your defection. The block I lived on burned to the ground three days after I moved to the base, and if hadn't been for you, I'd probably be dead."

Stunned in to silence, Heather could see Beck was in a similar state of mind. She'd known Doc was from New Bern. Couldn't for the life of her remember his actual name, but she'd seen him from time to time when she'd gotten sick at a teen.

"Not everyone around here hated you."

With another smile, Doc picked up all the data he'd collected along with the blood sample and walked to the door. "We'll have the results of your blood panel in a few hours. Feel free to hit up the break room while you wait. There's some comfy couches and the like."

A final smile and Doc was gone, an honestly stunned Heather and a thankful Beck in his wake.


	8. 08

Make me sentimental

Two days after arriving in Jericho, the day after he'd been admitted to the med center, Beck was antsy. The doc had announced him to be of good heath and physical fitness, free from any contagious disease. When Jake had come back to let him free, he'd received a different sentence than the one he'd expected.

"Stay here over night. When we can find you proper accommodations we'll get you settled in. That is, if you want to stay."

Heather had remained by his side through the whole wait. She stood immediately at Jake's proclamation. "And what isn't _proper_ about my house?"

Jake sighed, a tired hand rubbing over tired eyes. "Think about it Heather. It's an unsecured location. Once the town finds out about Beck you're going to have people camped out on your front lawn waiting to get a piece of him."

Beck's eyes widened at the thought of bringing that sort of trouble literally to Heather's door step.

"I don't give a crap what people think Jake. I want him with me."

"And I want the both of you safe." Jake's tone was final.

At ten that evening the nurse had forced Heather to go home. Beck helped her out the door, dropping kiss after kiss on her down turned lips until he forced her to smile and promised that he'd be here in the morning.

He slept fitfully that night on a cot usually reserved for nurses needed during more bloody times. He was uncomfortable in the scrubs that he'd been lent and he ached for Heather to fill his arms. More than once he woke suddenly from a light sleep. Nightmares of prison and the long journey back to the woman he loved kept his desperately needed slumber at bay.

At the earliest possible sliver of sunlight he awoke, sweating and panicked. Jake and Eric stood at the door to the room he occupied. He didn't need to inspect them for long to know that they were here to take him somewhere else.

Beck stood and dressed without a word. He'd seen the flavor of determination in both men's eyes before. It was the same expression that his guards had worn when they'd come to escort him to the whipping block.

Beck wasn't sure what the Green brothers meant to do to him, but he imagined it wasn't going to be pleasant.

They loaded in to an old SUV and headed out of town, away from Heather's house. Beck remembered that this was the way to the Richmond farm. That great scorched battle field that he'd first met Jake Green at. When he'd been idealistic and Jake had been fueled by the darkest of emotions.

The SUV didn't have a very good suspension and Beck was glad his hands weren't bound when they hit another massive pot hole for the umpteenth time. He was able to brace himself in the back seat. When the vehicle wound it's way up the Richmond driveway he was glad to see that the house was still standing and still looked well kept.

He'd envied Stanley Richmond for his beautiful home and the memories that his family had built on the land. Even then he'd known that there would never be a homestead like this in his future again. He'd known deep down that everything he'd come to call home then had been destroyed.

When the brothers pulled him out of the back he couldn't help but look up the lonely hill to the small cluster of graves. He couldn't help but feel the warm spring sun on his face as his stomach did flips and he informed the Rangers of his intentions to leave the control of the ASA government. The memory felt like it was made many lifetimes ago.

Jake took his arm and lead him to the back of the house. Stanley was already waiting. His rifle was cradled casually in front of his chest.

Beck wasn't really all that surprised that this would be his ending.

It was convenient for the men. They could bury his body anywhere on the property and the only ones that would know were these three. The only one that would miss him would be told something about him taking off for . . . Texas or out East to try and scratch a living.

Heather would try and rationalize it as something else for a while. Tell herself that they'd chased him off. And then she'd come to accept it. And move on.

_She never moved on, after five years. She never gave up home_

And Jake Green had probably never whispered in her ear that he was never coming back.

_I love you Heather. Be strong._

Head held high, Beck stepped forward to accept his fate.

His fate was thrust in to his hands. He blinked, stupidly, at the gun, then looked up in to Stanley's face. "Wanted to know if you could still shoot. If you're going to be helpful around here we need to know what you're skills are."

Beck glanced at Jake and Eric to make sure this wasn't a joke. They were amused all right, but only in the most amiable of ways.

"That's a cruel joke you know." He looked down at the weapon and inspected it before finding it in good working order and loaded. He brought it to his shoulder and all of his training slid back through his body.

It was a low caliber and had at least twenty rounds in it. He picked targets he knew would be easy to see for the three men but were perhaps a little more ambitious than he'd intended. When he tried for the same bush three times and missed every shot he brought the gun down. His best estimate was that the bush was about a hundred and fifty yards away.

Not an easy shot to make. He didn't feel so bad about missing. Pulling the bolt back up and checked the barrel, emptied the chambered round, and handed the weapon back to Stanley.

"So, how'd you like to work on a farm?"

- - -

Beck was gone by the time Heather rushed from her house to the med center.

When the glass door slid open, the receptionist had smiled politely and informed her that Eric and Jake had taken Beck almost two hours prior. They hadn't shared their travel plans and Heather felt a worrying anger building inside of her.

She was at the Green household's door as quickly as possible.

Emly was up, thankfully, and admitted the other woman, who was shaking now with fear and fury. "Where did they take him Emily?"

The blond woman looked very confused and tried to lead Heather in to the living room; tried to have her take a seat. Heather wasn't in the mood to be herded and she shook off Emily's guiding hands.

"Where did they take Beck? I know they got him this morning from the med center."

Emily's jaw dropped at that statement and she was the one who needed bracing. She leaned against the door jam. Her hand slowly rose to her mouth. "Beck? Beck is back? That explains so much!" She stared off in space for a moment, lost in thought.

Heather had no patience for her friend at that moment. She grabbed Emily's shoulders, jolting her back to the here and now. "Explains? Explains what?"

Emily lowered her hand and took a deep breath. "Last night, when Jake got back home, Eric was with him. They were up pretty late talking about a man that showed up yesterday. They tried not to let me hear, but I couldn't help it if they decided to have their conversation in the room next to one I was cooking in. Oh god Heather." Wide eyes turned to Heather and Emily's hand raised again.

"What!? What did they talk about Emily?"

Her voice was barely a whisper when she said, "They decided they were going to take him out to the Richmond farm. I know Eric said something about Stanley keeping that twenty-two in working order. It sounded like he meant the gun."

Heather's world shattered then, with the thought that her friends would take the man that she loved out to 'the back forty' and shoot him. She stood paralyzed for a moment before her survival instincts, her protective maternal ones, sent a healthy dose of adrenaline coursing through her veins.

"I'm going after them. Where's the keys to Jake cars Em?"

Heather had to find the keys herself, after spending five minutes trying to get through to Emily. The blond seemed to be just as shocked as Heather felt, yet wasn't in any shape to be thinking coherent thoughts yet.

Half way out the door, Heather was stopped by her friend's voice. "He's back Heather. Have you seen him?"

Heather gave her a tight smile. "Where do you think I was night before last?"

Emily smiled back at her. "Let Jake know that if he shoots Beck I'll return the favor."

Both women laughed in a nervous sort of way that meant the remark was mostly a joke. But not completely.

The four mile drive seemed to take an eternity but soon Heather could see the beautiful yellow house on the hill and Eric's SUV parked by the side. She screeched to a halt next to the black vehicle and bound from the driver's seat.

She didn't bother knocking on the front door. As she barged in, she was petrified with what she might find. The sight that greeted her shocked her so badly her legs gave out from underneath her and she collapsed to the hard wood flooring.

"Heather!" Beck sounded like he was in a panic and he rushed over to her from his seat at the kitchen table. She looked up at him, tears in her eyes and still imagining his lifeless body full of holes. And her world was put back together each small sliver one by one.

Grasping his face between her hands she leaned up and kissed him. Long and hard she kissed him trying to convey every ounce of dread and love that flavored her blood at that moment. He smiled against her mouth and pushed her away from him.

"Glad to see you too. Can I help you off the floor?"

She nodded and he helped her up. When she was vertical again she gave him a tight hug before turning her attention to the three men that were still sitting with cards in their hands. "I'm taking this man home with me right now. If any of you have the balls to tell me no I will remove them, can them, and keep them in a mason jar under my kitchen sink. Is this clear?"

Stunned silence met her demands and turned on her heel, ready to stalk from the house. Beck's hand on her shoulder stopped her. He glanced back at the men then lead her out to the porch. "Stanley is going to let me work out here with him. Give me something to do I suppose close to someone who can keep an eye on me. We're grabbing a break right now and them I'm going out on a horse with him so we can fix up one of the fences out along the woods."

When he'd finished his explanation Beck rubbed his hands down both of her arms. He desperately wanted to tell her that he was actually enjoying himself and the work. That he was enjoying the company and they seemed to be tolerating his presence pretty well. He wasn't ready for that confession however. He hoped she would understand.

Heath gave him a long and thoughtful look before nodding curtly. She stalked back in the house, still looking for all the world to be angry as hell. Beck knew better though. It was her standard 'I am woman. Hear me roar.' "If he's not back on my porch before the sun goes down, I will keep that promise that I just made about your balls and the mason jar. Swear to God."

Jake pushed back his chair to stand, to talk with her privately. She raised just one finger, pointing it right at him, and fixed him with a meaningful look. He plopped his butt back down on the wood. Back on the porch she wrapped her arms tightly around Beck and kissed his cheek. "You have no idea how worried I was."

"Believe me darling, I might have a clue. I don't think they're going to kill me, at least not any time soon. I will be back with you tonight, I promise."

He kissed her once more before disappearing inside the house.

Heather didn't have the heart to even whisper that he'd promised to be at the med clinic that morning. She turned and headed back to the car and back to Jericho. She still had work to do concerning her findings from yesterday. Her thoughts turned inward, to the handsome and dark haired man she'd found; her most valuable find yet, and she frowned slightly as she turned the engine over.


	9. 09

Hold you in my arms. I just want to hold you in my arms

At seven, Heather couldn't stand the wait any longer. She pushed back her chair away from her desk and threw down the pencil she'd been tapping impatiently for at least an hour. Across the room from her, Darcy Hawkins raised an eyebrow in question.

Heather flipped the report she'd been working on closed and grabbed her backpack. "I'll see you on Monday Darcy."

The older woman smiled after Heather as the brunette left their office. Robert had told her during her lunch break that Major Beck was back in town and that the Green boys had played a pretty mean trick on him that morning. A trick that Heather had caught on to and had ranted about.

Robert was laughing when he'd told Darcy but she knew that it had honestly riled her co-worker. And the whole day long, Heather had been almost unbearable. She'd been tapping that pencil on and off since noon and had a dramatic sigh to share with the world every fifteen minutes.

Darcy could sympathize. She'd been very much so in love with Robert shortly after they'd met. His frequent absent periods could do nothing but make it more painful. Young love, like all the best things in life, is a feeling best experienced with the other party.

At the door to town hall, Heather pulled out her sunglasses and slid them on, glad to see that she had about thirty minutes before sundown. Plenty of time to get home and pace there for a while, waiting for Jake to bring Beck home.

_Home._

She smiled at the thought of keeping this particular 'house guest'. She'd been beyond shocked when he'd admitted that he didn't have anywhere else to go but she'd also been overjoyed because she wanted him to stay. She wanted him to stay with her, pretty much forever.

Between the bouts of anxiety she'd imagined sharing this strange life she'd acquired with Beck and it had soothed her. It had also given her some very warm feelings in the pit of her stomach just thinking about being able to wake up next to him every day. Perhaps a child.

Blushing at that thought, Heather set out from town hall.

During her short walk, her mind wandered even more. By the time she'd arrived at her house she was glowing with the thought of the life that the two of them could build, through choice and choice alone.

She resolved to jump his bones as soon as he walked through the door.

_'Speaking of the door'_. She frowned as she turned the key in the lock and realized it was already unlocked. There were few people who had a key. Not overly worried, she pushed it open and the delicious scent of pasta sauce wafted to her.

"Is that you Heather?"

She didn't think it would be physically possible to smile any wider. Heather dropped her backpack at the door and shut it, crossing her living room and entering the kitchen. Beck turned from the stove with a sauce spoon in one hand and a shaker of salt in the other.

She really wanted to jump him bones all right. She paced herself, leaning against the door frame instead. The butterflies in her stomach told her that she was slightly nervous now, thinking that this was real.

He was here.

He was her's.

He gave her a blinding grin. "Hello beautiful. Did you have a good day?"

Pacing be damned, she pushed away from the wood and flew in to his arms. He exclaimed in mock outrage at the interruption to his cooking until her fingers buried themselves in his hair and her mouth found his. Beck's lips opened under her onslaught and she groaned in pleasure.

"Heather-"

She kissed him harder.

"The food-"

Eyes closed against possible interruptions, one hand released his head and reached down to shut off the stove. He groaned in response.

She heard the spoon hit the floor and the shaker was slammed down on the counter. His hands were at her waist, lifting her up and pulling her even tighter. Heather wrapped her legs around his waist, tight. She could feel him through both of their jeans and he was hard for her.

Both arms around his neck now, Heather shifted her weight. The friction tore another groan from both of them. Beck took two quick steps and her back was on the table, once more. He lifted his lips long enough to put the space between them necessary to disrobe the important parts.

His large hand here at her waist again, at her fly and then lower. He dipped one inside her panties. She moaned and pushed up against the pressure. Beck chuckled and Heather opened her eyes to look in to his.

"I think I love you."

She could feel his fingers flex involuntarily to the confession. She grinned and repeated it as he pushed his middle finger inside her.

Even being no stranger to sex, this was something else for Heather. This was deep. Deeper than the other men she'd been with. It felt all encompassing, despite their limited contact.

He pushed another finger in and her lips lifted off the table. She choked back a scream and pulled her face back down to hers.

Beck kissed her hard. He was impatient she could tell. She was too. Rotating her hips, she gasped when her fingers found the most sensitive spot inside of her. "Please, Beck."

He trailed kisses down her chin. His hand withdrew. She was about to complain when he lifted her bodily with one arm and managed to push her pants and underwear down to her ankles with the free hand. She kicked off her shoes and then her clothes. Beck maneuvered her back to the table and was at her entrance.

Beck filled her in one smooth motion. For a moment, neither moved. Their eyes were locked, warring over who could express the most affection without speaking. Beck slowly drew back and Heather's head hit the table hard as he drew a long sigh from her.

It was a slow love making this time, but no less intense than the first time in the shower. That thought brought another blush to Heather's face and her hands grabbed at him, pulling him tighter to her. Spurred on by her excitement, Beck became more forceful and more vocal. Soft words of adoration poured from his lips.

He found that spot again with his movement and she cried out loudly. He hit it again and she could feel the tightness building in her loins. Straining to reach her peak, Heather clamped down around Beck. He filled her even more and it sent a ricochet of light and sensation through her body.

"Oh Heather." Words almost lost against her collar bone, Beck's thrusts became manic and he gripped her hips tightly as he spilled inside of her with a shout.

The clock on the wall ticked by almost a full three minutes before either of them moved. When they did, it was to kiss again. And grasp tightly in a strange hug on the kitchen table.

Beck's head finally raised and he looked down on her in wonder.

She couldn't help the saucy statement when she grinned and said, "I'm so excited that I get to come home to that every day now."

His laughter filled the small room and he kissed her forehead before pulling away. He looked down at the mess and grabbed a clean towel. He wiped her dry and then pulled up his pants. Heather watched his slowed movements knowing he was still feeling the after-effects of his orgasm. The thought made her grin.

Beck handed her the pants that'd been thrown half across the room. "If you want to go grab a shower I'll be done with dinner in ten minutes. As long as it wasn't ruined by our little time-out."

Heather's laughter followed his and then filled the rest of the house as she went upstairs to clean up.

- - - - -

Beck was pleased with the results of his evening. He'd spent all day anxious to get back in to town and see Heather. Just thinking about the beautiful woman was enough to keep him at half mast most of the day and when he'd arrived back at her place before her, he knew he wanted to treat her.

After all, he was going to be asking very nicely if she'd consider letting him stay with her. For a while. Maybe until he'd built up enough trust with the Green boys to get his own place in town.

Hopefully forever.

He didn't know exactly what he wanted from Heather but he was pretty damned sure it included forever. He hadn't felt this way in a long time. Almost twenty years. But he still remembered what it felt like to be head over heels in love.

Thinking about her confession on the table stirred his libido again and he shifted slightly. In his arms, Heather slept peacefully. He'd worn her out a bit after dinner. And then again after they'd both cleaned up in the shower again. Now, three showers in from when he'd arrived home, he was content to just hold her.

Heather stirred in his arms. Her lips brushed his bare chest in a whisper of a kiss and that made his predicament even worse. He tried to move away but Heather was having nothing of it. She pulled herself back to him and plastered their bodies together from hip bone to chin.

He could feel her smile and he chuckled. "How long have you been awake?"

"Not long," she murmured. "You were poking me."

"I can't help that. It's you."

She raised sleepy eyes to his face and there was a smile on her lips that spoke of her love. "You've certainly got a way with words. Why were you always so formal back when you were Major Beck?"

He regarded her quietly. He was thinking of the right thing to say. "I was still married. And you aren't the first woman I've been around when I've been away from my wife that's aroused my interest. I never cheated on her but that doesn't make it any easier to be subjected to an amazing, talented, engaging, and gorgeous woman."

That didn't come out quite the way he'd meant it to but Beck hoped that it had come out with the right intention.

Heather's smile turned in to a smirk. "I don't know whether to be offended or complimented."

"Be complimented. Trust me, you're all that and more."

She snuggled down in to his chest again. Although it was apparent to both of them that he was ready for another round of love making, Heather didn't seem inclined. He was happy enough, just having her there. Plus it was going to be dawn soon.

Her voice was so quiet when she spoke that Beck wasn't sure he'd even heard anything. She repeated it, sleep filtering her words. "Stay with me. Just like this."

He grinned in to her hair and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "Forever."


	10. 10

joy –noun _  
emotion of great delight or happiness caused by something exceptionally good or satisfying; keep pleasure; elation.  
2.A state of happiness or felicity  
Origin: 1175-1225; Middle English: joy(e). Old French: __**joie**__; joye_

- - - -

Their days passed by gloriously.

In the mornings, before they even rose from the bed, they made love. Long sessions involving plenty of interesting techniques for waking up. Then a shower which eventually turned in to more fooling around.

When they'd make it to the ground floor, Beck usually cooked breakfast and Heather always cleaned up after him. It was a bittersweet moment when they heard Jake's truck honk from the street and most days they stayed wrapped inside one another in a hug longer than probably necessary. Most days it wasn't even to irritate Jake.

On the farm, Beck slipped in to the day to day routine very easily. He was happy to spend his time on honest labor and he was learning about the ins and outs of country living. Stanley was always polite and Mimi was glad to have someone else to talk to.

For Heather her days were longer than before. She liked to fit as much as she could in to a four day work week which allowed her Fridays to go out to the Richmond farm and 'spend time with Mimi'. Just to visit, she'd like to say with a smile.

No one was fooled after that first time when she'd insisted on sitting on the front porch and watching Beck chop wood, shirtless.

The day Heather announced she was pregnant a heavy rain had driven most of the adults of Jericho to Bailey's for some indoor amusement. She was very official with everything, banging on a large bell Mary had installed to ring every time someone tipped her.

The bar had fallen silent. Sixty pairs of eyes watched as Heather climbed up on a table and in a very not-Heather sort of way declared that they'd have themselves an honest to god post-War baby sometime in December.

The room had been shocked quiet. Shock didn't even begin to describe the look on Beck's face. When the Greens, all five of them, had caught sight of it, they started laughing and didn't stop until the applause and congratulations were over for the happy couple.

Beck decided on a wedding and right quick to. It was the end of June by then and the days were at their longest. He set up everything behind her back, even finding a sole seamstress who took apart one of Heather's mostly unused sun dresses to create a beautiful gown for her to wear.

Heather knew something was up. Beck was living with her. He'd have been an idiot for thinking she wouldn't realize that he had something planned. She just wasn't sure what exactly it was.

On June 22nd, when the sunlight was at it's longest, Beck threw a party in the middle of town. Those in attendance equated it to the time Gracie Lee had loosened her grip on some of her product and had cooked all the meat she'd had in her coolers.

Heather had been told that it was a special occasion, that they were honoring Gail with something or another. The dress, an amazing cobalt blue, wasn't really cut like a wedding gown. She didn't really think there was anything odd about Beck producing it out of nowhere and insisting she wear it.

It was when Beck left before her and Jake picked her up with a meticulously cleaned car that she began to wonder. By the time they'd reached the end of what was standing in as the 'aisle' she had a pretty good idea what was going on.

She wanted to be upset with Beck for not including her and for not even really asking her but the look of hope on his face wiped away all traces of anger she might have felt.

He handed her out of the car and promptly fell to a knee and proposed. The ring was simple. The meaning behind it was eternal. She nodded yes and the crowd that was seated rose to their feet and applauded.

Heather loved everything about the evening. She still chewed out her _husband_ when they got back to their _home_. Beck took it all in stride, forcing her to cuddle in a most amusing fashion when she refused to give him a smile.

_The End_


End file.
